


Ten Stories

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ten moments, ten lives, ten different perspectives. A peek into what might have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Stories

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is a meme of sorts. I saw a version of it with [](http://azephirin.livejournal.com/profile)[**azephirin**](http://azephirin.livejournal.com/) the other day, and had some spare time at work yesterday and decided to try it out. Except I was nowhere near a computer, so I had to remember the prompts on my own.

_1\. Write down the names of 10 characters.  
2\. Write a fic of fifteen words or less for every prompt, using the characters determined by the numbers. Do NOT read the prompts before you do step 1._

I so failed at the fifteen words. *facepalm*

1\. Gaila  
2\. Christopher Pike  
3\. Jim  
4\. Uhura  
5\. Sarek  
6\. Spock  
7\. T'Mir (the ofc who first appeared in [tushah nash-veh k'du](http://medie.livejournal.com/1646635.html#cutid1))  
8\. T'Pring  
9\. Bones  
10\. Sulu

**1\. AU - 5 and 9 (Sarek &amp; Bones)**

He's just a goddamn resident. He shouldn't be here. Leonard looks at the chart and then past the padd to the watchful, worried eyes of the woman a few feet away. Everybody on the planet knows who the Lady Amanda is. Everybody on the planet knows who the man in the bed is beside her. He doesn't know about the Vulcans, but on Earth the great love story of Amanda Grayson and Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan is _epic_.

And, right now, he's holding the fate of that story in his hands.

Hands that've never so much as touched a Vulcan, much less treated one. Oh, he knows where everything goes (damn fool way to design a body, even if said body's natural habitat was a desert world) but that doesn't mean a damn bit in the face of an actual patient needing actual surgery.

And Sarek of Vulcan most definitely does. Len sucks in a steadying breath, licks his lips, and starts forward. "All right, Ambassador," he says, putting on his game face, "your tests do show an abnormality, so here's what we do -- "

**2\. Dark - 4 and 3 (Uhura/Jim**)

He wakes up screaming. The first night, she's not prepared for it. Nyota reaches for Jim, hand curling around his wrist, and finds herself laid flat on the floor before she even sees the blow coming. Knocking against her desk on the way down, the clatter of supplies wakes him before he can lash out again.

Jim looks down at her and Nyota forgets all about herself. His eyes look _lost_.

The second night, she's ready for it. Feels him launch upward, hears the agonized scream ripping out of his throat, and she waits. When he wakes himself up, looking wildly around the room, she says his name and reaches out.

She's heard the name Kodos before, everyone has, but listening to Jim, the atrocities of Tarsus IV become _real_. With a face of perfect calm, Nyota curls a hand around Jim's, leans against his shoulder and rages against a ghost.

**3\. Threesome - 7, 5 and 1 (T'Mir/Sarek/Gaila)**

In the short time that she has known Gaila, T'Mir has observed the woman to be most resourceful, but even she had not anticipated this. With raised eyebrows, she considers both Gaila's excited expression and their surroundings. "This is -- "

Gaila laughs. "Yes, it is." Linking arms with T'Mir, she moves forward. As much as T'Mir believes she should resist, she nevertheless allows herself to be drawn forward. "You need to do this."

"I do not," T'Mir insists calmly. "I am quite well, Gaila. Indeed, there are number of reports upon which several of my superiors at Starfleet Med--" Gaila's mouth, gentle and insistent, cuts off her protests. T'Mir has never engaged in such activity, it is not a common method of affection among Vulcans, but she finds it quite satisfying nonetheless.

"Your reports can wait," Gaila says when they part. Her eyes gleam with mischief and T'Mir experiences something which might be termed apprehension. "You can tell them you were in conference with an important diplomat. I'm sure they'll understand then."

It is then that T'Mir realizes Gaila has been leading her in a specific direction and, through the crowded restaurant, spies the ambassador in question.

S'chn T'gai Sarek.

Sarek who is looking their way, effectively preventing any discrete escape.

Curious, however, that escape is not amongst her contemplations. She turns to Gaila, moving just a step closer. "Might I inquire as to your intentions, Gaila?"

Gaila brushes a finger against the skin of T'Mir's wrist, the barest of touches which sends heat curling its way through her body. She attempts to ignore it, focusing on the woman at her side, but it is difficult and it is some time before she is able to complete it successfully.

There's a smile curving her lips, but the look in her eye is striking in its honesty. "Reminding you both that you're still alive."

**4\. Amnesia - 2 and 10 (Pike/Sulu)**

He wakes to a smile. The young man bending over him is a stranger. At least, he thinks he is. Most people who are strangers don't smile at you the way he's being smiled at.

"Good," the stranger says, a hand on his, "you're awake."

He furrows his brow. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I -- "

"Have no idea who I am," the stranger finishes. He laughs, quick and warm, and nods. "Doctor McCoy thought that might happen. He thinks the compound might be affecting some of you cognitive functions, but don't worry, that'll pass with time." He sits down, pulling his chair closer. "I'm Hikaru, by the way, and you're Chris. You're -- " he blushes, faintly. "That is, we're -- "

He, _Chris_, grins just a little. "We are, huh?" He considers the way his body's responding to Hikaru's proximity, the way his smile makes his breath catch, and doesn't doubt it for a second. "Yes," he decides, "we are."

Hikaru's hand slips into his and he squeezes it. "It'll pass?"

"Yes," Hikaru says, "it will." Resting his forearms on the biobed, he leans closer. "If you'd like, we can pass the time by talking."

Chris nods. "I'd like." He rubs a thumb against Hikaru's hand, the sensation familiar and strange all at once. "Tell me about us."

**5\. H/C - 8 and 6 (T'Pring/Spock)**

She is at his side when he awakes. It has been many years since their last meeting, but he knows his intended on sight. Through slitted eyes, he surveys her with some fascination. She is beautiful, more so than he remembers, but her appearance provides a source of consternation. Ordinarily so immaculately coiffed, there are dark circles beneath her eyes and her hair, while beautifully arranged, shows the faintest hints of dishevelment.

Her hand rests upon his and she is slumped back in a chair. They are in the Academy infirmary and medical staff move back and forth just beyond the curtain.

Wholly confused, Spock clears his throat. It is dry, painfully so, but T'Pring is awake in an instant.

She sits up, sharp and composed. "Spock." She does not ask if he is awake, such would be illogical, but she does lean closer and, for a moment, he believes that he can see relief in her gaze. Then it is shuttered, buried, and she is a mask of control once more. "All is well," she says. "There -- " Here she hesitates, considering the matter of explaining to him, and it is precisely thirty three point oh-two seconds before she continues. "An accident. Do you recall?"

He does not and says as much.

T'Pring nods. "Not unexpected. The explosion was severe and you were thrown into a bulkhead. There was some concern of memory loss, however no other damage is present." She withdraws her hand from his and he finds that he misses it. "You will recover completely."

Spock accepts the explanation and turns attention to other matters. "As agreeable as it is that you are here, T'Pring, I -- "

She interrupts him. It is unheard of for a Vulcan woman to behave in such fashion, but T'Pring does not seem to care. "You do not remember," she says, almost in address to herself. "Of course, you would not. The memory loss."

Her features, so cool and composed, briefly betray fear. Worry. Concern for him? It is not logical that she, who had always seemed uncertain of their union, would be such toward him, and yet -- she is. "In the moment of injury, Spock," she says, voice soft, barely audible, "your mind cried to mine."

The revelation is startling. That his mind could reach hers across so many light years is astonishing, yet he knows she is not lying.

"A call which you answered." He does not elaborate. He does not need to. They both know the price she has paid within their culture for his actions. Something which caused further strain upon them. That she would hear his cry and, despite all, answer it is most unexpected.

No more so, however, than the fact he lifts his hand toward her, traditional two fingers extended, or the fact that, without hesitation, she matches them.

_Fascinating_.

**6\. Crackfic - 9 and 4 (Bones/Uhura)**

He slips into his quarters, slumps against the wall, and claps a hand over his eyes. "Saints and angels preserve us," he mutters, laughing at himself. "Failing that, let Spock come up with something good."

Nyota's laughter echoes his. He peers out from beneath his hand and promptly forgets how to breathe. She's draped across their bed in an old shirt, something that's barely hanging together, with a padd in her hand and her hair loose about her shoulders. She looks over at him, eyes warm with said laughter, and says, "I take it Mudd's still on board?"

Hopping around, he pulls off his boot and dumps them aside. "Beauty pills, robots, that man is a disaster waiting to happen. Lord knows what he's about to bust out with. Spent an hour in Sickbay rambling on about a fungus growing on his -- " he scowls. "Nevermind. You don't want to know. _I_ don't want to know." He just hopes that, some day, Christine can forgive him.

Nyota's grin widens and she holds out a hand. "Poor baby. Come here."

As it turns out, Harry Mudd's latest escapade?

Sentient fungi with a bent for galactic domination and, no, Christine really _won't_.

**7\. Genderswap - 2 and 6 (Spock/Pike)**

He wakes up in Sickbay. The rescue from Nero's ship has faded into a dull blur of activity. Just as well. He doesn't want to remember a damn moment of being on that ship.

"Chris."

Turning his head, Chris finds Spock sitting at his side. She looks -- His heart breaks all over again. She's holding onto control by a thread. He can see the strain in her eyes and, god, he can't imagine how she's doing this. He's never doubted she's the stronger of them, not for a second, but seeing it displayed like this --

"Hey," he murmurs, holding out an arm for her.

Mindless of their location (though, he realizes, the area is unusually quiet) Spock leaves her chair. She slides onto the bed with him, carefully fitting herself against his side, and settles down beside him.

Knowing she can't make the first move, he pulls her closer, allowing Spock the refuge of hiding against his neck. When he feels the hot press of tears against his skin, Chris says nothing. He just closes his eyes and joins her.

**8\. 1st Time - 2 and 7 (Pike/T'Mir)**

She's looking at him. Across the table, a salad before her that's mostly untouched, she's looking at him. Most people wouldn't consider this extraordinary, except most people think Vulcans are cold, repressed, and downright frigid when it comes to sex.

Most people are _wrong_.

T'Mir is looking at him with a kind of frank interest that he finds fascinating.

"We're not going to finish this, are we?" he asks, amused.

"I do not believe so, no," T'Mir replies. She puts her wineglass down. "Do you have any objections on the matter?"

He throws his napkin on the table. "God no."

It would be unseemly to run to the bedroom, particularly for an Admiral and a Vulcan woman, so they do not.

They end up in the living room instead.

**9\. Angst - 3 and 8 (Jim/T'Pring)**

After the challenge, he's maybe just a little curious. A woman picks him to nearly get his head lopped off by his pissed off, slightly out of his mind because of crazy hormones, first officer, he thinks being curious is probably in order.

It's not exactly easy. Vulcans aren't known for being big on gossip, but Jim cheats a little. He asks the Ambassador. What he gets is more than he bargained for.

Namely, he gets it all. What happened to the Ambassador. What happened in to this Spock.

And he gets more than a little regret.

"What I failed to consider then, Jim, is the same which he has failed to consider now." Not even making the attempt at concealing his regret, the Ambassador had closed his eyes. "I did not discern the truth behind T'Pring's words when she stated she had no wish to be consort to a legend. Namely, I did not comprehend the impact my actions would have upon her. I failed her, Jim, and so has he."

Picturing Spock with Uhura, Jim had looked at the Ambassador. "No shit."

The conversation is still ringing in his ears when he beams down to the colony. T'Pring's house is a small thing on the edge of the main community. It's not what he was expecting. After that dress, that attitude, and the cutting way she'd spoke, he'd pictured something more _ostentatious_.

He finds her in the garden, on her knees, inexplicably tending to a rose bush.

Before he can speak and ask, she says, quietly, "It is tradition that I should know my husband's mother. The Lady Amanda had a great fondness for them." Brushing dirt from her hands, T'Pring stands and faces him. Her features are perfectly composed, controlled, and something about it seems oh-so-familiar to Jim.

"You knew, didn't you?"

T'Pring's eyebrow sweeps upward, then down again, and she inclines her head in a nod. "Vulcan was many light years from Earth, yes, but not so many such news would not reach."

The implication in her voice hits Jim like a punch. "Holy fuck, _everyone knew_."

Again a nod. She removes her gloves. "Nevertheless, Captain, I do owe you apologies. It was inappropriate of me to place you in the situation that I did. While it seemed imminently logical at the time, I believe, on the matter of my former husband, my logic is -- " for a moment, he thinks she might smile, "Flawed."

Jim snorts. "Been there."

T'Pring regards him with something that might be amusement. "You speak with experience."

"Spock can be a great guy," Jim says and means it. "There's none better than him, most of the time, but sometimes? He can be a real pain in the ass."

"I am unfamiliar with your choice of idioms, but yes, I believe I understand the inference." T'Pring turns around, walking toward the open door of her home. "I believe, in that regard, he and I are of a kind. Until my choice at the koon-ut-kalifee, I might have been considered blameless." T'Pring's tone suggests that she would disagree. Jim's not so sure about that, but then again, he's beginning to suspect he's got a lot in common with Spock's ex.

"Maybe, maybe not," he says, falling into step with her. "Doesn't change what you went through." He tries to picture that. The looks, the whispers, the opinions. Might not be logical, but he knows people. Everyone had probably had one and T'Pring had to know them all. "It was still wrong."

"Perhaps," T'Pring says, quietly. She turns to look at him, standing in the shadow of her doorway. "However, it also does not change the morality of my choices."

"You're not going to let me win this one, are you?" he asks.

"No," T'Pring says. "There are some wounds, Captain, which must be honored. Those which are inflicted upon others most of all."

"And if I said I didn't want you to?" Jim asks.

She steps inside her house. "I would reply that is irrelevant. Would you like refreshment? I do not believe I have anything Terran, however, you may find saya to be quite agreeable."

Jim watches her go. He likes Uhura. He really does, and that makes this all the harder, but -- "Spock is an idiot."   
**  
10\. Babyfic - 1 (Gaila with bonus Kirk and McCoy)**

The child is a girl. She is born, like so many others, in the midst of a pitched battle. The war between the Klingons and the Romulans is raging at a fever pitch, the Federation getting drawn into the mix whether it wishes to be or not, and Starfleet is regularly being drawn into such skirmishes. Another such battle is not anything new to Gaila or to the medical personnel which surround them.

It is, however, somewhat unfortunate in its timing.

The doctor plucks the padd from her hand. His look is scathing and she beams at him. "Commander, please tell me that you are not conducting emergency ops _while giving birth_."

With her prettiest smile, Gaila rises up to bear down as instructed. "If you would return the padd, I would not have to do so." Her smile widens. "I will have conducted my current operation and will be available to continue."

The doctor glares harder. Gaila wiggles her fingers. "Uh uh," he says. "I give you that, McCoy has my ass."

"Leonard McCoy is currently several light years away," Gaila observes. "Aboard the Enterprise." With Jim. Both of whom, she hopes, remain unaware of the impending birth of their daughter. With the Enterprise in the midst of the battle, it would not do to have two of its officers so roundly distracted. "I assure you that he will not know."

"It's _McCoy_," M'Benga insists. "The hell he won't." He tosses the padd. "Business later. Baby now."

Gaila doesn't roll her eyes, but it's not for lack of desire. She is aware, of course, that he is mostly correct. Her daughter will not wait. However, her daughter's safety has already been assured. She has chosen the best medical personnel available, Doctor M'Benga recommended to her by Leonard himself, and she is in the best facility available.

With such riches, she believes, it is only right she concern herself with the children of others.

"Very well," she says. "However -- "

"The minute you're clear, you get it back," he says, nodding. "Deal."

Within minutes, Gaila holds her daughter in her arms, has dispatched relief ships to the necessary planets, and arranged a personal call to the Enterprise.

"You see, Anja?" she says to her nursing daughter. "Easy."

On the screen, Jim and Leonard tear their eyes from the baby to look at her. "We really don't want to know, do we?" Jim asks.

Gaila smiles and provides no answer.


End file.
